


Nachbesprechung (Debriefing)

by Abracadebra



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Boy Soldiers, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Poetry, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abracadebra/pseuds/Abracadebra
Summary: Newkirk thought he'd seen everything until a seemingly benign mission took him to the Hammelburg train station. Shock and worry mingle in his debriefing session back at camp.





	Nachbesprechung (Debriefing)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net on February 25, 2019.

**Nachbesprechung***

_*Debriefing_

_After a mission at the Hammelburg Banhof_

_February 1945_

The boy could have been my brother, really.

Fair hair, pink cheeks, wild eyes.

Rounded up from school, he was. Schultz said so.

Farewell to algebra.

Half a day's training with a bayonet,

And he's off to the war,

Swapping knee socks and books to dig trenches.

Fifteen years old, if that.

Perhaps he thought it was a bleeding game.

Them lads went marching by, must have been, oh,

Thirty of them at least.

Smiling and grinning, shouldering their guns,

Queuing for their troop train.

Heading off to God knows where. Eastern Front?

Lord, their poor mums. The shock.

This is different, even if they are Krauts,

Them boys is kids, ain't they?

They got no business fighting in this mess.

But back to this one boy, see,

What looks like my brother.

No smiling, no laughing.

Like he knows fate awaits

And won't be kind to him.

Standing on the platform

Like he lost his way home,

Peers over his shoulder,

He mouths the word "Mutti,"

And the tears run right down.

No, not my tears, you git.

I don't cry for Nazis.

Though if you'd seen them lads yourself, Andrew,

You might choke up a little bit, like me.

He wasn't no fanatic, just a kid.

Dressed up, playing soldier.

Sir, you don't think our boys will have to go?

Not the younger laddies like my brother?

He's just gone sixteen. Don't reckon, do you?

No? Not our side? Well, that's a blessing, Guv.

I'll take it. Five years in this stinking pit.

I'd stay ten more to leave them boys alone.


End file.
